


Let's Call it a Draw

by WJD



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ends with Bog, Eventual Smut, F/M, MMA, Marianne has always been Tough Girl, Slow Burn, Starts with Roland, cursing/foul language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 02:58:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8604454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WJD/pseuds/WJD
Summary: If Bogart King knows one thing, it's that dealing with heartbreak resolves best with a good conversation, and a vow never to love again.If Marianne Blair knows one thing, it's that violence solves everything, especially when it's UFC sanctioned and happening in an octagon.He's got a gym. She's got a heartbreak.Nothing could possibly go wrong.





	

Marianne took a glimpse at her watch and cursed to herself. She was late… again. She struggled to run in the ridiculous shoes she’d donned for her love, her handsome, dreamy, tender love. She hated being late for him, for making him wait on her, but she couldn’t let him know what she’d been doing. He’d never approve. She frantically threw open the doors to their favorite restaurant, Chez Fée, and rushed to their usual table.

  
“I’m so sorry, honey” she panted taking her seat. Her fiancée leaned forward with a breath-taking smile.

“And what, my buttercup, were you up to?” his drawl laced exquisitely with each of his perfectly enunciated words. Marianne almost swooned, but she had to keep her head about her. She fumbled quickly for a response,

“I- um- was cleaning the apartment?” she said, more question than response. Roland beamed.

“There’s my happy homemaker!” He cheered, plucking up her hand and holding it on the table top, “let’s get some food into you, hmm?” Marianne smiled dreamily, lacing their finger together.

“Yes, let’s”

* * *

 

*52 minutes ago*

  
“I submit!” screamed the man tangled in Marianne’s arm. She released him and he crumpled into a twitching mass of battered limbs. She twirled defiantly around the octagon, shouting to the throng surrounding her,

  
“Who’s next!” The crowd hushed and murmured gently among themselves. She’d been through six already, shouldn’t she stop, was the consensus. Marianne, always the gracious victor, helped her opponent stand and walked him to the waiting attendant.

“Alright ya loon, I’d say the girl’s clyped you pretty good,” he said, easily lifting the fighter over to a bench and lying him flat. The gangly man looked up and rolled his eyes as the girl in the ring took on another man, at least twice her size. She was pretty, he couldn’t deny, but she was… soft, too much like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince charming. Not his type, though why he was entertaining such thoughts, he didn’t know. He’d give the girl this, she had good form. He watched her with some mild interest, mostly attending to the sorely beaten boxer. His patient stirred, laughing slightly,

“Hey, thanks Bog.” Bog waved him off with a bony finger.

“Dinnea mention it” he smiled, giving his friend a playful shove back down. Thang winced, but fell back anyways, he sighed wistfully, looking towards the gym's receptionist.

“Think Stuff saw me?” he asked, quiet pitifully in Bog’s eyes. The taller man huffed,

  
“With your luck, only when the burd was on yer back.” Thang grumbled with displeasure, and punch his friend with a little more force than to be joking. Bog laughed anyway, and set about getting Thang back to his feet.

  
“Let’s go, get changed, Stuff’s gonna take you home” Bog push the squat man towards his lockers, shouting after him “an’ take a shower. You reek!”

  
“You’re a shit, BK!” was shouted back with some fervor. Bog chuckled again and went back to the business of minding his gym. He’d only started it up a few years ago, but it had already grown to one of the largest MMA centers in Grassy Knoll and the three surrounding towns. He took a quick glance at his wrist watch, 6:10, nearly closing time.

“Alright you tubes! Closing’s in 20 minutes, finish yer round and get outta my gym!” He shouted and was met with a chorus of insults, all loving of course. Marianne’s eyes darted up to stare at Bog.

  
“What time did you say it was?” she asked taken aback. Bog deadpanned,

  
“6:10.” Marianne cursed loudly, she scrambled from the octagon and rushed to the locker rooms still spilling an incredibly colorful string of profanities behind her. Stuff looked up from her desk and sent an inquisitive look to Bog. He shrugged, he hated princesses.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this chapter was so short, but it's really just a prologue. I'm hoping, for now, to get on a regular posting schedule, about a chapter a week, maybe two if I get really lost in this. Anyways, comments and critiques are welcomed, as is input of any kind.


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